


Journey to Pennytree

by tarthiana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Battle Couple, CYOA, Canon-Typical Violence, Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M, Lady Stoneheart - Freeform, Multiple Endings, Post - A Dance With Dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 10,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarthiana/pseuds/tarthiana
Summary: Sword or noose? Friend or foe? Truth or lies? In the game of thrones, we all must make a choice.When last left our heroine, Brienne of Tarth, she had been tasked by the merciless Lady Stoneheart to deliver Ser Jaime Lannister in exchange for the lives of Podrick Payne and Hyle Hunt. Now with Jaime in tow, Brienne must find a way to keep all she holds most dear.This is a choose your own adventure fic. You play as Brienne and make her decisions in the story!
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 179
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story would have never happened without the help of some wonderful people. Thank you winterstale24 and lewispanda for beta reading. This was a beast, and you both helped make it better. Thank you hillaryshu and Cloaca for the amazing illustration (to be posted soon!) and cheerleading. I wouldn't have been able to finish the story without you.
> 
> This is a choose your own adventure story. At the end of each chapter there will be a link. You get to choose which direction the story goes. I know that people like to leave comments on the last chapter of a fic, but because there are multiple endings, feel free to leave a comment on any chapter.

It was a horrible plan, and Brienne knew it. She was never a good liar. Jaime had said so to her face the last time they were together; yet he followed her like a green squire. He must know that she spoke false. He must have noticed her ghastly injuries—he _must_ have. Otherwise, Ser Jaime was a fool.

Perhaps in her absence he had forgotten what she truly looked like and thought her appearance was no different. Perhaps his eyesight was not what it was moons ago. Or maybe, he was humoring her—waiting until she could no longer continue this death march to demand her intentions.

Would she wake with a knife at her throat? Would she be the one dragged across the Riverlands in chains this time?

“Was the Stark girl unharmed?” Jaime asked after a prolonged period of silence.

“Yes,” Brienne said, her voice more hoarse than intended.

More riding. More silence.

There was a time when all that she wanted was Ser Jaime by her side. Late at night, when darkness could obscure her blush, Brienne would think of Jaime. _Her Jaime_ —his golden hair, his cocksure smile, the slight lines around his mouth, how his eyes were kind, kinder than she expected, and as green as an emerald. Now his presence burned like the wound on her cheek.

It would have been better if she had never found him, had never left him. Had never met him.

Why did he trust her?

The question festered in her mind as they continued to travel.

The path in front of her began to blur, and Brienne blinked furiously to steady herself. She couldn’t fall from her horse. That would invite questions, and she did not want to entertain those.

The unbidden image of young Podrick’s neck broken by a noose frightened her into alertness. The boy could be dead now, for all she knew. Heart aching, she clutched the reins of her horse harder. They would kill Hyle first to scare him. The Brotherhood was that cruel and bloodthirsty.

Recalling Lady Stoneheart’s cold, lifeless eyes turned the maid’s stomach. Lady Catelyn was almost like a mother to her, and to see what she had become had stricken Brienne to her core.

In truth, she remembered Catelyn Stark more than her own mother. Lady Tarth was a ghost in Evenfall Hall—everywhere and nowhere at once. There was a large portrait of her above the hearth in the library. That was what Brienne remembered of her: a portrait of a woman with sad eyes and a beautiful face. Her father would often stare up at the painting, both in adoration and sorrow.

Did Ser Jaime think of his mother like that? The Stranger also took her when he had been only a boy.

“What are you thinking of?”

Brienne’s tongue was heavy in her mouth as she tried to think of a convincing lie. Several things came to mind, each more unbelievable than the last.

_I’m thinking of nothing, ser. I’m thinking of how I will prepare supper. I’m thinking of how uncomfortable this saddle is. I’m thinking of Harrenhal. How I held you in the bath. How weak and small you felt in my arms. How beautiful you looked in spite of it._

She settled on the task at hand.

“Sansa,” she exhaled with a clenched jaw, focusing on the road.

“Lady Brienne, you look unwell,” Jaime called to her, but he seemed so far away. “We must stop and rest.”

“No,” she muttered, her vision getting darker by the second. “We cannot.”

Decision

[ _To continue on without rest, go to chapter 2._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387120)

[ _To stop and regroup, go to chapter 3._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387141)

[ _To run away, go to chapter 4._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387180)


	2. Chapter 2

“Brienne, a weirwood looks livelier than you. Please stop,” Jaime urged.

She wanted to refute that. Brienne was not a delicate maiden. She was tough and strong, and she did not need to rest when so much was at stake. Yet, the toll of her injuries was great. Her perfect posture was forgotten as she hunched inward. The pain made her head buzz.

She was suddenly without the strength she needed to stay upright, and Brienne nearly fell off her horse. Ser Jaime was by her side before she toppled over like an empty suit of armor. He helped her down, and the embrace of his Lannister cloak met her.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the horizon. “A stable. We can take shelter there.”

“No,” she mumbled, straining in his arms.

He held still. “Stop being pig-headed,” Jaime huffed.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Ser Jaime was the last person she wanted to witness this weakness. He held her close, supporting her with a gentle strength. The last time they had been like this, both had been naked.

He lifted her up, despite her objections, and carried the maid to the abandoned barn as she slipped into unconsciousness.

[ _Continue to chapter 3._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387141)


	3. Chapter 3

Brienne awoke to the rustling of dry hay.

“You fainted,” Jaime told her. “Who would have ever thought the fearsome Maid of Tarth would swoon in my arms?”

Brienne forwent chastising the man and attempted to rise off her impromptu bedroll. Pain shot through her broken arm, and she fell back against the straw.

“Are you keen to do it again, my lady?”

Brienne grimaced at the moniker, and Jaime took notice. Frowning, he unsaddled both their horses.

It hurt to leave things unsaid, to lie to the man she had come to admire so much.

“I’ll get some wood for a fire,” he told her before leaving the shoddy barn.

The shame she felt could have dragged her underground. The silence she was met with at Jaime’s departure was filled with a malaise so heavy her bones ached. It was possible that the Brotherhood had sent someone to follow her, and now the forest floor was splattered in Ser Jaime’s blood—hers soon to follow.

Shaking the thought out of her mind, Brienne felt the gauze hiding her cheek. The dull ache of the bite was heightened with her exhaustion. There was no doubt it was infected. If only they had some wine to boil.

Every joint ached; every limb straddled the line of numbness or throbbing. Brienne struggled against the weight of her eyelids. She must stay alert. These were dangerous lands.

 _Ser Jaime must know_ , she thought. He must.

_Ser Jaime...her Jaime…_

If Brienne were a different woman—a beautiful woman—she would have a husband and children instead of a Valyrian steel sword and a chunk of her cheek missing. That was the life her father wanted for his daughter—a quiet, domestic one where she was kept safe, the Tarth line solidified with sons and daughters and grandchildren to fill the hole in their hearts left by the late Lady Tarth and Brienne’s long gone siblings.

Did Selwyn know the hope he had instilled in her heart the day he had brought her to Ser Goodwin’s training yard? When the man had handed her a dull blade and looked her in the eye, she _had known_ that she would be a knight before she would be anything else.

Who would marry her now that she was broken?

 _It doesn’t matter_ , she thought sadly. The Stranger would embrace her soon enough.

Jaime’s return quieted the whispers in her head. He brought branches for a fire along with berries and mushrooms. There were stale oat cakes packed away in her saddlebag. It wasn’t much of a meal, but Brienne forced herself to take a few bites.

“Do you think we are being watched?” Jaime asked before taking the first bite.

Brienne said nothing. His eyes narrowed, and then, after a long glance at her injured body, softened. “Never mind,” he said.

They ate in silence for the rest of their pitiful supper.

The fire was so warm, and she was so tired. Jaime had taken care to keep the fire away from the dry hay. Though she fought it, her eyes shuttered heavily. Behind them the vengeful visage of Lady Stoneheart waited, all gray eyes and putrid, decaying skin.

“Brienne…” Jaime called to her softly.

Her stomach turned, bile rising in her throat from guilt. She did not answer.

With a sigh, Jaime settled a respectable distance away from her and fell asleep.

In the morning, they would both die. The finality of it seemed unreal. What would a world without Jaime Lannister be like? She didn’t want to imagine it, and she certainly didn’t want to live in it.

Peeking at his sleeping form, Brienne was overcome with shame.

He would hate her—for her deception, for her failure. _She had so many failures._

Brienne had failed to become the lady House Tarth needed. She had three failed engagements—and there would not be a fourth. She had failed her father when she left Tarth for Renly, and she had failed Renly when he died in her arms. She had failed Lady Catelyn when the Stark girls were no where to be found in King’s Landing. She had failed to defend Ser Jaime and his honor. She would fail Podrick and Ser Hyle too if she could not rescue them.

As if he sensed her gaze, Jaime turned to face his companion. He was not asleep as she had thought.

“My lady—”

“ _Please_ , do not call me that,” Brienne whispered.

“Wench, if it pleases you,” he bristled, and then calmed his tone. “What happened to you? Your arm, your cheek…”

“The cheek was Biter, who is now dead.”

Eyes wide with shock, Jaime scrutinized her wounds more carefully.

“Timeon is now a hand shorter as well.” _That one was for Jaime_ , she had thought as her blade had crashed down on him. “They’re dead. _All of them._ ”

“I can’t imagine that they could face you and still live,” Jaime said, a warmth in his voice.

Brienne blushed, averting her eyes.

“What of the rest of your injuries? And what of Sansa?”

Decision

[ _To tell the truth about Lady Stoneheart, go to chapter 5._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387198)

[ _To lie about Lady Stoneheart, go to chapter 6._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387231)

[ _I don’t know! Just take me to the end! (go to chapter 19)_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387519)


	4. Chapter 4

She could not go on with Ser Jaime. Her honor would not allow it. Suddenly, panic began to set in, making Brinne’s heart race.

“Look, a stable,” Brienne said as she pointed at the abandoned building in the distance. “You make camp there, and I’ll search for firewood.”

Before the he could object, Brienne urged her horse into a gallop, the cold wind stinging her eyes into alertness. The further the distance between them the better. Her plan—if you could even call it that—was foolish and impossible. How could she have been so stupid as to think he would believe her?

When her horse slowed to eat the forest foliage, Brienne dismounted, wincing at her broken arm.

“Where do you think you’re going, girl?” asked a graveled voice. “We saw you abandoned the Kingslayer.”

Thoros of Myr stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself to Brienne. Two more men followed from behind him—one with a sword and the other with a crossbow. The Brotherhood was on the hunt, and Brienne was a wounded deer.

“You cannot make me betray Ser Jaime,” she rasped.

“Lady Stoneheart demands justice, and she will have it,” Thoros said, his voice as dark as the night’s sky.

Whizzing through the air, an arrow from the crossbow struck her side. With a pained cry, Brienne fell to her knees, the sensation too much for her weakened state. Blood soaked through her small clothes and tunic—hot and red.

Thoros’ eyes were as soulless and devoid as Lady Stoneheart’s. _Nothingness_ , Brienne thought before a sword stabbed her stomach. Gasping, she tried to draw Oathkeeper for a final time, struggling to stand, to fight these men. The effort was too great—her knees gave way, and she fell to the ground.

Blood blanketed her body, a small comfort only because it was warm. The frozen ground was hard with frost, and it was all Brienne could smell—the cold. Brienne still held Oathkeeper with a white-knuckled grip. She tried to attack the feet of her enemies, but her wrist was soon pinned to the ground by a cheap leather boot. She screamed in agony as the sword was ripped from her grasp.

As her vision began to darken, she heard Thoros murmur a prayer to his Lord of Light.

“ _Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon. Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon. Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson._ ”

And then, nothing. Blackness. Death.

It was short-lived.

Brienne was ripped back to consciousness. She found herself in the presence of more members of the Brotherhood. Her fresh wounds were bound, and her cheek dressing was changed.

“Return to the Kingslayer and deliver him for his trial,” Thoros of Myr bellowed. “Or we shall kill you again, and again, and again. There is no escaping his sins. There is only justice.”

This would never end, Brienne realized. She had no chance against these foes, and no choice other than to obey. There was no escaping men who could kill and resurrect her infinitely. If only Jaime could know the truth…

Trying her best not to limp, Brienne began the antagonizing journey back to Ser Jaime. Even in death, she was a sworn sword; her loyalty would remain with Lady Catelyn and the abomination she had become.

[ _Return to chapter 1._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060)


	5. Chapter 5

Her heart lurched. Ser Jaime deserved the truth, but that would put Podrick and Hyle in danger. Every course of action she could take felt false, so she was honest.

“There...there is no Sansa Stark,” she said, almost whispering. “I’ve been looking for her across the Riverlands and found no trace of the girl.” Wincing, Brienne adjusted her broken arm. Jaime’s gaze hardened.

“Did you know that worshippers of the red god can cheat death?” she said distantly, her mind already slipping away to the dim, dank cavern where the dark terror she had witnessed reigned. “They call it the kiss of life. The Brotherhood employs a priest who revived Beric Dondarrion whenever he perished, up until he gave it up willingly. There is a new leader of the Brotherhood now.”

“Who?” Jaime asked solemnly.

“ _Catelyn Stark._ ”

His breath caught in his throat. The terror and shock causing his eyes to widen and jaw to fall open. “That is not possible,” he said with shaking breath.

“Dondarrion did it himself,” she spat. “She had been dead—decomposing in a riverbed for three days—and he kissed her still. They call her Lady Stoneheart.”

“Stoneheart?”

“She leads the Brotherhood with a hardened heart devoid of mercy or feeling. They are a band of outlaws and thieves now, reaving the Riverlands of coin and life. Everyone is deemed unworthy and ripe for punishment.”

“The Brotherhood hurt you?” Jaime asked, his hands balled into tight fists.

“They hanged us—Ser Hyle and...and even Podrick Payne. _Sword or noose._ I was ready to end it. I...the sight of him, Jaime. Dangling there. Choking. _Dying._ He’s a boy not yet of three and ten.”

A heavy silence sat between the two until Jaime responded, “So you are exchanging me for them.”

“ _No_ ,” she urged. “I...I wanted to save everyone, somehow.”

“Foolish wench,” he bristled. “Of course you want to save everyone; it’s the honorable thing to do.”

“Ser Jaime—”

“You had no plan, _and_ you were not going to tell me the truth of it? There are two working hands between us! _Brienne_ —we are doomed alone, but together we may have a chance.”

Scarlet-faced, she turned away from him. Mayhap he had the truth of it, that they could survive this together. It was certainly better odds than facing Lady Stoneheart alone.

The two of them spent hours talking through scenarios. With each possibility, Brienne allowed herself a sliver of hope. Jaime had given that to her—another act she could never repay. They continued into the night, long after the fire was reduced to embers.

The next morning, Jaime and Brienne left the decaying stable. The silence between them was less uncomfortable than the day before, but still thick with anxiety, the former Lady Stark on Brienne’s mind. She often felt Ser Jaime’s gaze upon her, but couldn’t meet his eyes.

As they traveled, darkness blanketed the forest. Without the sun, every tree, bush, and rock seemed sinister. Brienne gripped the pommel of Oathkeeper, running her thumb over the ruby-eyed lion head—a small action that soothed her nerves. It reminded her that Ser Jaime had given her the sword for a purpose. She could not fail her Jaime.

They left their horses tied to a tree not far from Lady Stoneheart’s cave. Jaime left Widow’s Wail in his saddle bag, the hilt hidden with cloth. With her courage rapidly deteriorating, Brienne entered the camp, Jaime following suit.

It was eerily quiet—just the sound of wood popping in several abandoned campfires and the rustle of trees as an icy wind swept through. Drawing her sword, Brienne led Jaime into the cave, her blade pressing on the small of his back. The humid darkness was a stark contrast to the frigid woods. Only the drip of water against rock and their quickened breaths made sound. Brienne wrinkled her nose in disgust at the dank, molding smell of the cave.

A rough voice called out in High Valyrian, and the cave was suddenly illuminated by lit torches, each held by a member of the Brotherhood. They surrounded the two warriors—some looked eager for a fight, while others held the same dead-eyed expression as their leader.

Lady Stoneheart stood next to a red priest, Thoros of Myr.

“I have brought Jaime Lannister,” Brienne called to her. “Release my companions.”

In her quiet, ghastly voice, the lady hissed, “Kill the Kingslayer.” Brienne stepped in front of Jaime, shielding him.

“Where is Podrick?” Brienne cried. “And Ser Hyle? Are they alive?”

“You’ll get them once you do as the lady says, _Kingslayer’s whore_ ,” a man in a soiled yellow cloak spat at her. She flinched at the cruel moniker. Jaime stepped forward.

“Is that you, Lady Stark? Come closer so that I may gaze upon your visage. You were always so pretty, though I suppose dying takes a toll on a woman,” Jaime said with a smirk and courtly bow.

A chorus of disapproval erupted from the Brotherhood, though no one made a move toward them. Judgment laid plain on Stoneheart’s face, expressionless as it was. She seemed more like a corpse now than before. Her skin was sallower, her features more pronounced. The decay was quickening—she would no longer be a woman, only bones, then dust.

Lady Stoneheart whispered in Thoros’ ear, and the man left her side, returning with Hyle and Podrick. Brienne’s heart fell at the state of them—unwashed, injured and starved. Their wrists were bound with rope, as were their necks. Podrick’s cries were muffled by a dirty gag. Anger flared inside of her.

“Kill the Kingslayer,” Lady Stoneheart rasped.

Her thunderous heartbeat loud in her ears, Brienne pushed Jaime aside and raised Oathkeeper.

Decision

[ _To try to save Podrick and Hyle, go to chapter 7._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387249)

[ _To try to kill Lady Stoneheart, go to chapter 8._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387267#workskin)


	6. Chapter 6

Lowering her eyes, Brienne could not speak—he would detect her lies. Jaime knew her. A frightening ordeal, no doubt.

“Brienne…”

“My injuries are unremarkable and have nothing to do with the task at hand. Get some sleep. We have a fight tomorrow,” Brienne said briskly, turning away from the knight with finality.

Jaime sighed, defeated. An hour later he slept; Brienne did not.

The next day, the silence between them was still thick with anxiety. The former Lady Stark weighed heavy on her mind. Brienne often felt Ser Jaime’s gaze upon her, but couldn’t meet his eyes.

 _Coward_ , she scolded herself.

As they traveled, the encroaching darkness filled Brienne with unease. She gripped the pommel of Oathkeeper tight, running her thumb over the ruby-eyed lion head.

Jaime cleared his throat. “I’ve never taken this route to Pennytree.”

“The Hound is close,” Brienne told Jaime. Her stomach clenched at the lie. “He is keeping Sansa captive in a cave not far from here. We should leave our horses and travel by foot, so as to not alert him.”

The horses were left tied to a tree. With her courage rapidly deteriorating, Brienne led Jaime to the camp. It was eerily quiet—just the sound of wood popping in several abandoned campfires and the rustle of trees as an icy wind swept through.

“Enter the cave,” she rasped, drawing her sword.

Eyes narrowed, Jaime did as she bid. The humid darkness was a stark contrast to the frigid woods. Only the drip of water against rock and their quickened breaths made sound. Jaime wrinkled his nose in disgust at the dank, molding smell of the cave.

It was dark for a moment, but a rough voice called out in High Valyrian, and the cave was suddenly illuminated by lit torches, each held by a member of the Brotherhood. They surrounded the two warriors—some looked eager for a fight, while others held the same dead-eyed expression as their leader.

Dreaded realization distorted Jaime’s face. _I have betrayed him, and he will never forgive me,_ she wallowed.

Members of the brotherhood parted for a small figure, silhouetted by the light. Slowly, she came into view, her putrid, rotting flesh visible and _real_.

“That’s impossible,” Jaime gasped.

She looked like a corpse—a bloated, festering corpse. She was a mummer’s puppet, kept alive by strings of Eastern magic.

Lady Stoneheart stood next to a red priest, one that Brienne recognized as Thoros of Myr. The man looked as if he had not slept in a sennight.

“I have brought Jaime Lannister,” she called to the dead woman.

“So this is what you had planned for me, wench?” Jaime spat. “Return me to your mistress so that she can torture me for another year in her dungeons? Have I not atoned properly, _Lady Catelyn_? No, for you my sins could never be absolved. I am a Lannister.”

In her quiet, rattling voice, the lady hissed, “Kill the Kingslayer.”

“Where is Podrick,” Brienne cried. “And Ser Hyle? Are they alive?” She thought of her companions hanging dead from a noose. _I must protect them,_ Brienne thought desperately, fear overwhelming her.

“ _Kill him_ ,” Lady Stoneheart urged.

Decision

[ _To beg for Jaime’s life, go to chapter 9._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387288)

[ _To give up Jaime, go to chapter 10._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387306)


	7. Chapter 7

“Face me, Ser Jaime,” Brienne said. “It is more noble this way.”

“You could never stab someone in the back, could you, wench?” he said flippantly.

Grabbing his shoulder, Brienne turned the man in front of her so that they were eye to eye. With much effort, she raised her sword again and brought it down with the intention of striking him, but Jaime blocked her swing with his golden hand. The sound of the collision rang in her ears.

Another thrust, another block. The two continued their dance. Brienne kept Podrick in her line of sight.

Jaime held no weapon, but was uninjured and quick—much quicker than Brienne had ever been. Each time she swung, and each time she missed. The Brotherhood cheered at their combat, eager to see Brienne die from exhaustion or Jaime be cut down. With a kick to his chest, Brienne sent Ser Jaime tumbling down, right in front of Lady Stoneheart and the red priest.

She let out a roar and charged forward, but instead of striking her opponent, she plunged Oathkeeper into Thoros of Myr’s chest, skewering him with her Valyrian steel. It sliced through the man with no resistance, and when she withdrew her blade, it was coated in blood so dark it looked black in the firelight. As the red priest fell to the cold ground, Ser Jaime swung at Lady Stoneheart’s ankles with his golden hand. She, too, fell. Jaime straddled the former Catelyn Stark and grabbed a dagger concealed in his jerkin. He slit her throat for the final time.

The Brotherhood erupted into chaos. Men charged at the four of them, and Jaime met them with the ferociousness of House Lannister’s sigil with a sword he had stolen from a dead enemy. Brienne cut Ser Hyle and young Podrick free of their bonds as quickly as she could.

“Run!” she screamed, the terror in her voice evident.

Her two companions hobbled out of the cave as the remaining members of the Brotherhood surrounded Brienne and Jaime.

“Brienne,” Ser Jaime grunted after spitting a mouthful of blood to the ground. “This is not how I thought it would end with us.”

“ _Jaime._ ”

“You are a true knight, the truest knight I’ve ever known.”

The two warriors stood back to back with swords raised. Brienne took a shaky breath in and out. Pain coursed through her body. The bloodlust of combat was quickly fading. And then, like a tidal wave, the remaining members of the Brotherhood were upon them. With their last scraps of strength, Jaime and Brienne fought—slashing, stabbing and striking.

A cry rang out, and two men dropped to the cave floor, dead. A dark-haired boy stood behind them, carrying a smith’s hammer wet with blood.

“Gendry!” Brienne cried out in both shock and relief. The boy was strong and soon took down three more men. Sensing that they were outmatched, the rest of the Brotherhood scattered like cockroaches from the cave.

White hot relief flooded Brienne. _It was over._ She had saved Pod and Hyle, and _her Jaime_. She had succeeded. She had won.

And now she was dying.

[ _Continue to chapter 11._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387342)


	8. Chapter 8

“Face me, Ser Jaime,” Brienne said. “It is more noble this way.”

“Stabbing someone in the back isn’t up to your standards of honor?” he asked flippantly.

Grabbing his shoulder, Brienne turned Jaime so that they were eye to eye. With much effort, she raised her sword again and brought it down with the intention of striking him, but he blocked her swing with his golden hand. The sound of the collision echoed throughout the cavern.

Another thrust, another block. The knights continued this deadly dance. Brienne kept Podrick in her line of sight.

Jaime held no weapon but was uninjured and quick—much quicker than Brienne had ever been. Each time she swung, and each time she missed. The Brotherhood cheered at their combat, eager to see Brienne die from exhaustion or Jaime be cut down. With a kick to his chest, Brienne sent Ser Jaime tumbling down, right in front of Lady Stoneheart and the red priest.

With a cry of fury, Brienne charged at her opponent, but instead of striking down the knight, she aimed for Stoneheart. With all the strength she could muster, the maid struck Oathkeeper into her former lady’s neck. Cold, dark blood rained down in the cave, splattering Brienne, Thoros and Jaime. Beheading her was an easy task with Valyerian steel, as it cut through muscle and bone as if it were nothing but paper.

Time seemed to stop for the maid. As Lady Stoneheart fell to the ground, Brienne mourned Lady Catelyn for the last time. What the Brotherhood had done to her was unforgivable, but what she had just done to the woman who had been more important to her than her own mother…

_Forgive me, Lady Catelyn._

She would have to live with this for the rest of her life, though the shooting pain in her side made Brienne think that she wouldn’t have to carry this burden for much longer.

The lady’s head rolled away from her crumbled body, and chaos broke out. Jaime jumped to his feet and plunged a dagger he had hidden in his jerkin into Thoros’ left eye. The man cried out, pushing the knight away and stumbling to find a wall to steady himself against. Podrick and Hyle were cut free by Ser Jaime soon after.

“Get out of here!” he commanded, and Brienne’s companions limped away from the battle as quickly as they could. The remaining members of the Brotherhood surrounded the knights.

“Jaime,” Brienne cried, clutching Oathkeeper tightly. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

“I’m not,” he grunted. He had stolen a sword from a dead enemy.

The two warriors stood back to back with swords raised. Jaime took a shaky breath in and out. The excitement of combat was quickly fading, and the pain of their injuries would soon overtake them. And then, like a tidal wave, the remaining members of the Brotherhood were upon them. With their last scraps of strength, Jaime and Brienne fought—slashing, stabbing and striking.

A cry rang out, and two men dropped to the cave floor, dead. A dark haired boy stood behind them, carrying a smith’s hammer wet with blood. The boy was strong and soon took down three more men. Sensing that they were outmatched, the rest of the Brotherhood scattered like cockroaches from the cave.

White hot relief flood Brienne. _It was over._ She dropped to her knees, tears falling freely. And then, nothingness.

[ _Continue to chapter 11._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387342)


	9. Chapter 9

“Please,” Brienne sobbed, hot tears now running down her cheeks. “Bring Podrick to me. He is just a child.”

Lady Stoneheart whispered something in Thoros’ ear, and the man left her side, soon returning with Hyle and Podrick. Brienne’s heart fell at the state of them—unwashed, injured and starved. Their wrists were bound with rope, as were their necks. Podrick’s cries were muffled by a dirty gag.

“You must kill the traitor,” a man in a soiled yellow cloak shouted at Brienne. A chorus of agreement from the brothers followed.

“Please have mercy,” Brienne begged. “Ser Jaime has always tried to fulfill his vows to you!”

“ _Liar_ ,” Lady Stoneheart hissed, her grey eyes lit with fury.

“The Kingslayer never intended for you to find Lady Sansa,” Thoros of Myr declared. “I saw it in the flames. He sent you away from King’s Landing with no more than a mare, a green squire, some coin and a worthless decree. The Kingslayer wanted to be free of you so that he could be with his _sister_ , the queen.”

“That’s not true!” the Brienne yelled, her eyes on Jaime. “Ser Jaime gave me a sword—a sword made from Ned Stark’s own blade—to protect Lady Sansa and Arya. He armed me, armored me. If Sansa and Arya were in King’s Landing, he would have sent them back to your family. But they weren’t! They were lost to the winds, and he sent _me_ to find them.”

“Lady Brienne has done everything in her power to find them,” Jaime said, voice strained. “Let us fulfil our oath to you; Let us go.”

The dead woman seemed to mull over that thought, but both knights knew the truth of the matter—they would have to fight.

Decision

[ _To try to save Podrick and Hyle, go to chapter 12._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387378)

[ _To try to save Jaime, go to chapter 13._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387399)


	10. Chapter 10

“Please,” Brienne begged, tears now running down her cheeks. “Bring Podrick to me. He is just a child.”

Lady Stoneheart whispered something in Thoros’ ear, and the man left her side, soon returning with Hyle and Podrick. Brienne’s heart fell at the state of them—unwashed, injured and starved. Their wrists were bound with rope, as were their necks. Podrick’s cries were muffled by a dirty gag.

“You must kill the traitor,” a man in a soiled yellow cloak shouted at Brienne. A chorus of agreement from the brothers followed.

“The Kingslayer never intended for you to find Lady Sansa,” Thoros of Myr declared. “I saw it in the flames. He sent you away from King’s Landing with no more than a mare, a green squire, some coin and a worthless decree. The Kingslayer wanted to be free of you so that he could be with his _sister_ , the queen.”

“That’s not true!” Jaime yelled, his eyes on Brienne. “Brienne— _you know that isn’t true._ ”

Wiping the tears and sodden grime from her face, Brienne grabbed Oathkeeper’s hilt. She would free Podrick and Ser Hyle. She and Jaime were not long for this world, but the boy and the hedge knight stood a chance.

With her good arm, Brienne unsheathed her Valyrian steel. The blade shone red and black, reflecting the torchlight around the dim expanse of the cave. She stepped toward her former companions, grim determination set into her homey face.

And then, fire. Hot, blazing destruction swallowed Hyle and Podrick both. Brienne screamed in bloody terror as her companions burned. Without thinking, she charged at the source—knocking the red priest to the ground and skewering him with her blade. He cried out in anguish, trying to push the maid off his body but failing miserably. Three men ripped Brienne from Thoros and held her to the cold floor of the cave.

One of the brothers cut Jaime’s throat, and he fell to the ground, blood flowing from the injury.

“Jaime!” Brienne screamed in agony.

She was hoisted to her feet and her limp body was dragged to Lady Stoneheart. Made to kneel, she could not look upon the lady’s face in her grief. In an instant, Brienne’s throat was slashed with a sharp blade. Choking on her blood, she fell to the ground, dead.

What followed came to Brienne like a dream. Instead of leaving her corpse for the crows, the Brotherhood cleaned her body, washing away the dirt, sweat and blood. Her throat wound was sewn shut. She was stripped of her armor and laid on a makeshift altar. The bandits gathered around her, waiting.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Thoros asked Lady Stoneheart, who gave him a dour expression.

“Do it,” she rattled.

Chanting in High Valyrian, the red priest summoned his god, the Lord of Light. He asked for the power of resurrection and was granted it. With a kiss, magic flowed into Brienne’s dead body. Her heart began to beat, blood began to flow, lungs began to inflate, and she opened her blue eyes, gasping in terror. Her eyes darted around, trying to determine where and _who_ she was.

“ _Sworn sword_ ,” Lady Stoneheart hissed. “Rise, and fulfill your oath to me.”

 _I died,_ she thought. It was all the truth she knew. _I died, and there was nothing._ Nothing after death—just an infinite inky darkness.

Jaime’s body laid unceremoniously on the ground. Brienne’s eyes traveled over him. She could not mourn him here—only in the privacy of her own heart. No tears came.

Numb, Brienne rose from the altar and took her rightful place behind her lady.

[ _Take me to the beginning._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060)


	11. Chapter 11

It was dusk when Brienne finally woke up. To her surprise, she was in a warm bed with soft, white linens. Her wounds had been cleaned and dressed; her hair and skin had been washed. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she tentatively touched her cheek. It was still tender.

A snore caught her attention, and Brienne realized that Ser Jaime was in the room, asleep in a contorted position on a chair. She almost laughed. Of course he snored. She had forgotten—their trek from Riverrun to King’s Landing seemed like a lifetime ago.

Taking in her surroundings, Brienne knew she could only be in one place: the Quiet Isle. A rush of calm flooded her. They were safe. Podrick and Hyle were safe. It was a miracle.

Then, a realization. She was on the Quiet Isle, and Ser Jaime was in her room.

“Jaime,” she whispered.

He stirred, eyelashes fluttering, and blue eyes soon met green. Shock, then heady relief cascaded over his face.

“My lady,” he addressed her, emotion swelling. “The Brothers didn’t know if you would recover.”

“I have,” she said carefully, her voice rough from lack of use.

“Yes, I told them you were too stubborn to die,” he said as he fidgeted with the end of his sleeve.

Instead of annoyance, Brienne’s heart bloomed at his jape. She smiled despite the pain in her cheek and the appearance of her crooked teeth. Her knight returned the expression with a smile of his own. He came to her side and sat on the well-worn bed with her. His hand was close. So close she could feel the heat from it. They weren’t touching—they never touched—but Brienne wanted nothing more than the weight of his hand in hers at that moment. She balled her hands into fists, willing the impulse to go away. She needed to focus on something else.

“Podrick?”

“Your squire is fine, Brienne,” he said.

“Hyle?”

“Annoying.”

It hurt to chuckle, but Brienne did so anyway. It was strange, being with Ser Jaime like this. No inherent danger, no looming threat. Jaime looked unburdened with his golden hand absent.

“Brienne,” Jaime began, suddenly serious. “When we dragged you here, we truly did not know if you would live. Your injuries were so grave, and infection was deeply rooted in your blood. The brothers did what they could, but there came a point when milk of the poppy would no longer help. When you were conscious, you were in such pain. You cried out for me. Screamed, actually. And I could not leave you.”

Brienne stared blankly at her knight.

“They married us,” Jaime said frankly.

She was married—to Jaime. _That is impossible_ , she thought with a lurching heart. Her world began to collapse in on itself.

“But, you’re the commander of the Kingsguard,” she said, her tongue heavy in her mouth.

“I was declared dead and replaced by my _sweet sister_ ,” he spat, the mention of Cersei poison in his mouth. “Mayhaps it is for the better this way. The white cloak was more a burden than it ever was an honor.”

The truth sat heavy between them. It almost impossible to imagine—the Lannister twins at odds with each other. When she had first met Jaime, his sole purpose was to return to his sister. _She was his other half._ Cersei occupied so much of Ser Jaime’s heart. There wasn’t any room for _her._

“I won’t hold you to this... _marriage_. Seek an annulment with one of the silent brothers here.”

Jaime gave a clipped smile but said nothing. He placed his hand over hers, and Brienne immediately colored. His hand felt warm and calloused. It felt like her own. “ _They married us_ ,” echoed in her mind. Jaime let his hand rest upon hers until a silent brother came to change Brienne’s dressing. After that, word spread of Brienne’s recovery, and soon the modest cabin was full of visitors.

Podrick wept openly at the sight of her, clutching her side and wetting her small clothes with his tears. Brienne motioned for the boy to lay next to her, and he crawled into the bed like a child of a much younger age.

“I thought you would die, ser, my lady,” he sobbed as Brienne tried to soothe the boy.

Ser Hyle looked glassy-eyed for a moment as well, but didn’t dare to shed any tears with such an audience there. He looked well fed, and Brienne supposed he was grateful for that. The dark-haired boy from the Brotherhood introduced himself as Gendry. His accent made it clear he was a long way from Flea Bottom. To Brienne’s surprise, Sandor Clegane was also present, standing silently in the back of the room. Septon Meribald was there, along with Dog. It was a reunion she did not expect, but was deeply thankful for.

Then, a raven arrived. A silent brother brought the message to Ser Jaime.

He read it aloud. “King’s Landing is under siege from Targaryens, and the Sept of Baelor has been destroyed in an explosion of...green fire. Thousands are dead.” Jaime paused, processing the horror. Brienne immediately thought of Harrenhal, of his confession. No doubt he was thinking the same. “The king hasn’t been seen in a fortnight, and the queen regent has refused to open the city gates.”

“The whole city is going to be a pile of ash,” Hyle said. “They say the dragon queen came with Dothraki screamers, an army of unsullied warriors and three full-grown dragons.”

Brienne’s heart stuttered. “Dragons?”

“It’s all the small folk are talking about,” Gendry added. “That, and a prince who is said to have escaped death.”

She looked to her _husband_ —who was fighting to remain present—and gently gripped his stump, anchoring him. A moment passed between them as they stared into the other’s eyes.

A brother arrived from the kitchens to announce lunch. Ser Jaime helped Brienne to her feet and secured a loose-fitting tunic and breeches to her frame when the cabin was empty of visitors. Supporting her weight, he walked them both to the dining hall.

A steaming bowl of chicken stew was placed in front of Brienne, and she forgot all forms of table etiquette at the enticing smell of it. Slurping hot spoonfuls into her mouth, Brienne’s appetite only grew.

“Lady Brienne, what will you have us do?” Hyle asked.

“M-me?” she sputtered.

“You are the leader of this party are you not?” he smirked. “We are on a quest to find a girl of three and ten, with red hair and blue eyes. Where shall we go next?”

Sandor turned toward Brienne with interest. She thought for a moment before saying, “Sansa has an aunt in the Vale. That is where we shall search next.”

“I’ll go,” Sandor said, startling the group with the presence of his deep voice—his vow of silence finally broken. He continued to shovel chicken stew into his mouth as if nothing had changed.

“So will I,” Gendry added.

“Me too,” Podrick said in a small voice.

Jaime said nothing, and Brienne tried to ignore her turbulent emotions about that. _He is free to do as he pleases_ , she thought. _He is not bound to me, nor is he my true husband._

Jaime was still by Brienne’s side late that night. She was weak but recovering, and Jaime’s vigil was no longer needed.

“You can finally get some sleep—in a real bed,” Brienne pushed. “You don’t have to fret over me all night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said stubbornly.

He was being ridiculous. Brienne thought back to their meal and Jaime’s lack of declaration. His family was in danger, and family meant everything to the Lannisters. His attitude suddenly made sense.

“You’re distracting yourself from worrying about Tommen,” she said. Tommen had never been able to be his son, but Jaime still loved the boy. He took in a shuttering breath.

“Yes,” he said, eyes guarded. “I do not know if he is alive or dead, if Cersei has locked him away and usurped his power.”

Decision

[ _To ask Jaime to come to the vale, go chapter 14._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387417)

[ _To let Jaime leave for King’s Landing, go to chapter 15._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387432)

[ _I don’t know! Just take me to the end! (go to chapter 19)_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387519)


	12. Chapter 12

Wiping her tears away, Brienne grabbed Oathkeeper’s hilt. She would free Podrick and Ser Hyle. She would rescue Jaime from the danger she had led him to. She would save everyone. She must.

Without a second thought, Brienne ran toward Thoros of Myr, Oathkeeper drawn. It sliced through the man with no resistance, and when she withdrew her blade, it was coated in blood so dark it looked black in the firelight. As the red priest fell to the cold ground, the Brotherhood erupted into chaos. Men charged at the four of them, and Jaime met them with the ferociousness of House Lannister’s sigil. Brienne cut Ser Hyle and young Podrick free of their bonds as quickly as she could.

“Run!” she screamed at her companions, the terror in her voice evident.

They fled the cave as the remaining members of the Brotherhood surrounded Brienne and Jaime.

“I am so sorry Jaime,” Brienne cried. “I’ve failed you.”

“No you haven’t—you are the truest knight I’ve ever known.”

The two warriors stood back to back. Brienne took a shaky breath in and out. Pain coursed through her body. And then, like a tidal wave, the remaining members of the Brotherhood were upon them. With their last scraps of strength, Jaime and Brienne fought with sword and fist.

Lady Stoneheart watched the battle, expressionless. With a heavy heart, Brienne knew what she must do. Amidst the chaos, she charged toward her former lady. With all the strength she could muster, the maid struck Oathkeeper into Stoneheart’s neck, slicing her head off like it was an infected limb. Cold, dark blood rained down in the cave, splattering Brienne.

As Lady Stoneheart fell to the ground, Brienne mourned Lady Catelyn for the last time. What the Brotherhood had done to her was unforgivable, but what she had just done to the woman who had been more important to her than her own mother…

_Forgive me, Lady Catelyn._

A cry rang out, and two men dropped to the cave floor, dead. A dark haired boy stood behind them, carrying a smith’s hammer wet with blood. The boy was strong and quickly took down three more men. Sensing that they were outmatched, the rest of the Brotherhood scattered like cockroaches from the cave.

White hot relief flood Brienne. It was over. She had saved Pod and Hyle, and her Jaime. She had succeeded. She had won.

The exhilaration of battle dulled the ache in her side. She brought her hand to it, and realized a gaping wound there. _It’s warm, my blood is warm,_ she thought.

Crumpling to her knees, Brienne found herself in Jaime’s arms.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, knowing it was fruitless. “ _Brienne, please._ ” His tears dripped one by one onto her face.

“Go to the Vale,” she whispered, fading. “Keep our oath.”

“I will,” he said, clutching her tighter.

Her three companions and Gendry the smith brought Brienne’s body to the Quiet Isle. There she was blessed in the name of the Seven. Podrick insisted on a vigil at the Warrior’s altar, and Jaime lit a hundred white candles at the Maiden’s. Her body would be sent back to her ancestral home on Tarth once it was safe. Jaime wrote the letter to her father himself.

Hyle, young Podrick, Gendry, Jaime and Sandor Clegane—who they found in the sept’s kitchens—traveled to the Vale in hopes of finding a girl of three and ten. They would find her for Lady Catelyn, and for Brienne of Tarth.

[ _Take me back to the beginning._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060)


	13. Chapter 13

Wiping her snot and tears away, Brienne grabbed Oathkeeper’s hilt. She would rescue Ser Jaime from the danger she had led him to. She would save Hyle and sweet Podrick. She had to. The alternative was death.

Drawing her blade, the maid addressed the Brotherhood. “Let us go.”

“ _Kill them_ ,” Lady Stoneheart ordered.

The Brotherhood descended upon her and Jaime. They stood back to back, both leaning against and supporting each other.

“Run!” Brienne screamed at Hyle and Podrick.

Her companions tried, but their restraints made them slow. The man in the yellow cloak grabbed Ser Hyle by the rope around his neck, choking him. He plunged his sword into the hedge knight’s back, and Hyle fell to the ground motionless.

A wail of anguish came from Brienne. She fought her way toward them, but could not reach her companions before Podrick too was slain. She wanted to drop to her knees in sorrow, but the combat kept her in motion. Grabbing the man’s yellow cloak, Brienne jabbed the end of her steel into his shoulder, twisting. He screamed in pain, and she pushed her blade deeper. Skewering him was an easy task for her Valyrian steel. It cut through him as if he was nothing but snow.

Brienne knew that the thrill of battle would not last for much longer. She and Jaime would soon tire—and then perish. The Brotherhood still outnumbered them ten to two. The warriors stood back to back, surrounded by the enemies. Brienne took a shaky breath in and out. Pain coursed through her body. With their last scraps of strength, Jaime and Brienne fought with sword and fist.

“Kill the lady,” Jaime grunted as he pushed an attacker away.

“ _I can’t,_ ” the maid cried.

“You can, and _you must._ ”

Lady Stoneheart stood near the mouth of the cave, watching the blood bath expressionless. With a heavy heart, Brienne charged toward her former lady. With all the strength she could muster, the maid struck Oathkeeper into Stoneheart’s neck, slicing her head off like it was an infected limb. Cold, dark blood rained down in the cave, splattering Brienne.

As Lady Stoneheart fell to the ground, Brienne mourned Lady Catelyn for the last time. Her head rolled away from her body in a morbid display.

_Forgive me, Lady Catelyn._

A cry rang out, and two men dropped to the cave floor, dead. A dark haired boy stood behind them, carrying a smith’s hammer wet with blood. The boy was strong and quickly took down three more men. Sensing that they were outmatched, the rest of the Brotherhood scattered like cockroaches from the cave.

Brienne stumbled toward Podrick and Hyle. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her squire’s small body close. Loud, wailing sobs shook her body. She cried despite knowing it would not make a difference. Brienne was vaguely aware that Ser Jaime had knelt next to her. He pried her hands off Podrick as gently as he could and turned her away from the corpses. She fell into him, and he let her.

The last thing Brienne remembered was the sensation of his arms around her as she cried into his neck.

[ _Continue to chapter 16._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387453)


	14. Chapter 14

“That must be very difficult,” Brienne said, her large eyes reflecting the full moon.

_Mother give him peace._

A heartbeat passed, and Brienne took his good hand in her warm, large ones. She did not wish to see him suffer.

“There is no record of our marriage,” he said, huskily. “We could part here—society none the wiser. But...if you wish to uphold these vows, it was suggested we consummate the union.”

They both blushed.

“Jaime,” Brienne whispered. “To be your wife is an honor I am not deserving of.”

“ _There is no one more deserving,”_ he said fiercely. “I would have no other wife but you.”

He kissed her then, in the cool light of the moon. Gently at first, but the way she clung to him made his head dizzy. The maid gasped into the heated kiss, consumed by the raw emotion of it.

“Your lips are made for kissing, wench,” Jaime said when they parted. “Or do you prefer ‘wife’ now instead of ‘wench.’”

Brienne pulled her husband close to her and kissed the smirk off his mouth. When they came together, it was as if they were lock and key—perfect complements. They held each other after, as their sweat cooled in the night air. Jaime traced the freckles of her shoulder, dipping down to her collarbone and then stomach. With her husband, every kiss was sweet like a song.

“In truth, I cannot bear to part from you, wife,” Jaime whispered. “Tommen is lost to us. He is dead, or soon will be with Cersei facing two Targaryens and three dragons. Even still, by the time I will arrive, the city will be nothing but ash.”

“I would not have you go to King’s Landing,” she whispered, finally. “Stay with me and fulfill your oath to Catelyn Stark. After, we will face your sister, or what remains.”

“Yes, my lady wife,” he said into the junction of her neck and shoulder.

[ _Take me to the beginning._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060)


	15. Chapter 15

Brienne did not know how to comfort her husband, but she did not wish to see him suffer. A heartbeat passed, and she took his good hand in her warm, large ones.

_Father give him strength._

“There is no record of our marriage,” he said suddenly, voice low. “We could part here—society none the wiser. But...if you wish to uphold these vows, the brothers suggested we consummate the union.”

They both blushed.

“Jaime,” Brienne whispered. “To be your wife is an honor I am not deserving of.”

“ _There is no one more deserving,”_ he said fiercely. “I would have no other wife but you.”

She kissed him then—like she was on fire, and he was water. The way he clung to her made Brienne’s head dizzy. The maid gasped into the heated kiss, consumed by the raw emotion of it.

“Your lips are made for kissing, wench,” Jaime said when they parted.

“Address me as ‘wife,’ not ‘wench,’” she replied, breathless and playful.

“As my lady wishes.”

Brienne pulled her husband close to her and kissed the smirk off his mouth. When they came together, it was as if they were lock and key—perfect complements. They held each other after, as their sweat cooled in the night air. Jaime traced the freckles of her shoulder, dipping down to her collarbone and then stomach.

“I do not want to part from you,” he said quietly, his voice edged with sadness.

“But you must,” Brienne said. “He is your son, Jaime.”

“And you are my wife.”

“I will be your wife when you are here and when you are gone—from this day until the rest of my days.”

He kissed her then, and they drifted off to sleep. In the morning, Brienne and her party went north as Ser Jaime traveled south. She prayed to the Father they would all be in Winterfell before the frigid winds blew from the North.

[ _Take me to the beginning._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060)


	16. Chapter 16

It was dusk when Brienne finally woke up. To her surprise, she was in a warm bed with soft, white linens. Her wounds had been cleaned and dressed; her hair and skin had been washed. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she tentatively touched her cheek. It was still tender.

The pain of losing her squire burned far worse than her injuries. Taking in her surroundings, a spark of realization set in. _The Quiet Isle._

As she rose from her bed, a sharp pain swelled in her side, causing the maid to abandon her plan of dressing and venturing out of the cabin. Someone would surely come for her, Brienne reasoned.

And as if the gods were listening, Ser Jaime walked through the wooden threshold. Green eyes met blue, and for a moment, the two warriors stared at each other in shocked silence.

“They didn’t know if you would recover,” he said.

“I have,” she said, her voice rough from lack of use.

“Yes, I told them you were too stubborn to die,” he said as he fidgeted with the end of his sleeve.

It was strange, being with Ser Jaime like this. No inherent danger, no looming threat. “That is true, I’m afraid.”

He came to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed barely big enough for one of them. This close, Brienne could see the fatigue plain on his face—the fine lines around his eyes, the unshaved scruff.

“The silent brothers buried Podrick and your hedge knight near the garden grounds,” he said softly. “I lit candles for them at the Warrior’s altar.”

Fat tears welled in her eyes. _Poor Podrick_ , she thought. The boy deserved so much more out of life. Jaime laid a tentative hand over hers. He was warm, and she let the tears flow.

“I’ve failed everyone,” she said, sniffling.

“Brienne, you have not failed. If anything, I have failed you.”

Gendry interrupted their privacy with a knock. He had news from a raven. Jaime took the piece of paper from him and read it aloud. “King’s Landing is under siege from Targaryens, and the Sept of Baelor has been destroyed in an explosion of...green fire. Thousands are dead.” He paused, processing the horror. Brienne immediately thought of Harrenhal, of his confession. No doubt he was thinking the same. “The king hasn’t been seen in a fortnight, and the queen regent has refused to open the city gates.”

“The whole city is going to be a pile of ash,” Gendry said. “They say the dragon queen came with Dothraki screamers, an army of unsullied warriors, and three full-grown dragons.”

Brienne paled. “Dragons?”

“It’s all the small folk are talking about,” he said. “That, and a prince who is said to have escaped death.”

The three of them ruminated in silence. A brother arrived from the kitchens to announce lunch. Ser Jaime helped Brienne to her feet, and she secured a loose-fitting tunic and breeches to her frame. Supporting her weight, he and Gendry walked the maid to the dining hall.

A steaming bowl of chicken stew was placed in front of Brienne by Sandor Clegane, to her utter surprise, but the need to eat was stronger than the need to question him. She forgot all forms of table etiquette at the enticing smell of it. The tall man sat next to the warrior in silence with his own bowl of stew.

“Lady Brienne, what will you have us do?” Gendry asked.

“M-me?” she sputtered.

“You are the leader of this party, are you not? Ser Jaime says that you are on a quest to find a girl of three and ten and fair of face, with auburn hair and blue eyes. Where shall we go next?”

Sandor turned toward Brienne with interest. She thought for a moment before saying, “Sansa has an aunt in the Vale. That is where we shall search.”

“I’ll go,” Sandor said, startling the group with the presence of his deep voice. He continued to shovel chicken stew into his mouth as if nothing had changed.

Jaime said nothing, and Brienne tried to ignore her turbulent emotions _. I betrayed him. Why would he travel with us?_

When Jaime brought her back to her cabin, Brienne addressed the issue.

“You’re worried about Tommen,” she told him, knowing the source of his turmoil. Tommen had never been able to be his son, but Jaime still loved the boy.

“Yes,” he said, eyes guarded. “I do not know if he is alive or dead, if Cersei has locked him away and usurped his power.”

Decision

[ _To ask Jaime to come to the vale, go chapter 17._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387486)

[ _To let Jaime leave for King’s Landing, go to chapter 18._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387504)

[ _I don’t know! Just take me to the end! (go to chapter 19)_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387519)


	17. Chapter 17

A heartbeat passed, and Brienne took his good hand in her large, freckled ones.

_Warrior give her courage._

“Will you go to King’s Landing?” she asked softly.

Jaime paused to think, leaving their hands intertwined. With a sigh, he leaned forward into her—resting his body against hers. With her free arm, Brienne held him close. The stubble of his beard scratched pleasantly against her neck.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“I know I have no right to you, but I do not wish to be parted. Come to the Vale with me.”

Meeting her eyes, Jaime moved closer—so close their lips nearly touched. A nervous shiver went down Brienne’s spine. On his toes, they were nearly matched in height.

“I think of you when the sun rises and when it sets. Your eyes are the sky, and your freckles are the stars. When I sleep, I dream of you, and your lips, and your eyes, and your crooked nose and horsey teeth. You are always with me, wench; you never left,” Jaime said softly.

He closed the gap between them with a soft kiss. Brienne held him tight and sighed. They parted, kissed again, and parted once more.

“We can keep our oath to Lady Catelyn,” Brienne said.

“No more oaths,” Jaime swore. “The only vows I keep will be to you.”

[ _Take me back to the beginning._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060)


	18. Chapter 18

With courage she didn’t know she possessed, Brienne stepped toward Jaime and embraced him. His head rested between her neck and shoulder, and he let out a shuddering breath.

_Crone light his path._

“If anyone could save the king, it would be you,” she whispered into his hair.

“Mayhaps,” the man sighed, his voice edged with sadness. “I do not want to part from you.”

“But you must,” Brienne said. “He is your son, Jaime.”

“And you are my lady.”

“I will always be yours,” the maid said, her heart beating loud in her ears.

Jaime peered up at her, a ghost of a smile on his lips. She kissed him then. Mayhaps her lips _were_ made for kissing.

In the morning, Brienne and her party went north as Ser Jaime traveled south. She prayed to the Father they would all be in Winterfell before the frigid winds blew from the North.

[ _Take me to the beginning._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060)


	19. Chapter 19

Eddard Stark woke up in a cold sweat. He turned to Catelyn, who laid comfortably on her side in their fur-covered bed.

"I've had the most peculiar dream," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Winterfell was quiet at this hour, with most of the castle away in their rooms.

"Go back to sleep, Ned," she mumbled. "It's too early for conversation."

[ _Take me to the beginning._ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought you could just skip to the end? Not in this fic! This is the "cheater page." It is not connected to any storyline.

Brienne turns to you and frowns severely.

“Cheating is not honorable, nor the mark of a knight. Go back to the beginning and start again.”

_[Take me to the beginning.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468880/chapters/72387060) _


End file.
